Chapter Text
For all of Anaxa’s nagging, some things never really change. Okhema is still bustling with life and drama. Melodies come to Mydei easier than lyrics. He still has a violent dislike of interviews.
“Thank you again for sharing your precious time with us tonight,” the host warmly greets. He gives her a practiced smile that comes easily now, domesticated and just as bright, and the audience erupts into loud cheers, delighted to see its favorite beast do its trick. He waves at them; knows how the script is supposed to go without having to follow the prompter.
“Thank you for inviting me,” he says.
The host is already charmed, scooting closer and tucking a stray of glamorously bleached ginger hair behind her ear.
“But of course. The fans have many questions for you, but I believe first tonight was the opportunity for a big announcement…?”
She’s in on it, of course; so is Mydei, and the light and production crew, and the hundreds of fake, paid audience members who go Oooh as ordered. Mydei crosses his hands over his lap, making sure the left one that carries the most rings overlaps the right one. “That’s right,” he says, and his smile stretches wider. “I’m honored and excited to announce that my band and I, Kremnoan Five, are releasing our new album Flying Castle today at midnight on all streaming platforms. It’s been a long time in the making, and we sincerely hope our fans and every one who will give it a chance appreciate it.”
The wave of applause he receives at the statement sounds genuine enough to be believable. “Congratulations,” the host says, “I can’t wait to listen when I get home tonight,” then continues with her script. “Your career has known some ups and downs, especially at its debuts, but it’s safe to say, everything has been going smoothly for you the last three years — you’ve joined a band, collab’ed with Aglaea’s latest fashion collection, and I heard you’ll also be starring in one of Mr. Reca’s movies -- is that right?”
He winks. “The movie was supposed to be a surprise, you know?”
She holds a finely manicured hand in front of her mouth and pretends the slip-up was completely unintentional, while the audience breaks into a polite laugh. “Oops! Well, since we’re sharing secrets, here’s something all of your fans have been raving to know,” Mydei completes the question in his head just as she words out the rest of it, predictably, because he’s been asked it more often than his own name: “Are you currently in a relationship?”
There’s a silence just on the side of tense. Mydei smiles, untangling his hands. The lights feel too harsh on his skin, albeit he’s sure the video rendition will be near perfect, for all the viewers at home. “Not currently, no,” he replies. “You could say I’m dating music,” he chuckles earnestly, happily. Someone whistles, and someone else, one of the audience members that is not paid to be here, screams ‘Date me!’ Everyone laughs.
“I can imagine,” the host continues. “Especially now that you’re known world-wide.” She lists the few countries he and the band will go through on their upcoming tour: Penacony, Belobog, the two capitals of the Xianzhou, and of course the last stop, where it all began: Amphoreus. She continues with basic questions he allows himself some freedom when answering: his favorite song ever; the music he’s been listening to recently; his recent friendship with some members of the HCQ band.
“We all wish for your career to keep on going brilliantly,” she concludes, and she sounds honest by now, “And! That you also take better care of yourself -- You’ve been spotted with a throat bandage lately, and some fans were worried you either got sick or injured. Tell me, is your beautiful voice — or your life — in danger?”
Mydei laughs, tilting his head to give her a look the cameras won’t manage to catch, not at this distance, one that means questions time is over now, and it’s time to wrap the interview up, because some secrets are not meant to be revealed under the limelights, and he smiles. “Oh, no,” he says, and his thumb idly strokes the leather band at his wrist, the skin underneath printed by the fresh memory of a rope. “Nothing so sinister.”